Snow

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Once upon a time she was the most beautiful woman in the world. The King met her while hunting in a snow‑capped forest at the edge of his lands, saw her sitting eating a piece of ripe red fruit. The moment their eyes met his heart belonged to her.

Rumors flew when he declared she was to be his consort, whispers that she had created some enchantment, that her beauty could be nothing but result of one. The day she was made Queen there was talk of the forest she'd lived in, stories almost forgotten recalled and passed person to person as the crowd stood waiting. But then she appeared, crowned and glorious, and she was enchantment personified, shimmering as she stepped through the streets with her husband, the King, by her side.

She was so lovely even flowers paled next to her. To look at her was to know you'd seen a glimpse of something extraordinary, and the stories about her faded into silence. The King shone a little brighter every time he looked at her and together they ruled a kingdom made glorious by what they shared, their perfection.

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